Sin. Sharon Page

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СКАЧАТЬ she was shocked and thrilled. His tongue toyed with the ridge of her fingernail, soaking the thin cotton.

      How could the stroke of his tongue on her finger make her ache between her thighs?

      But it did.

      Why didn’t she pull her hand back? Stop him? She couldn’t. His words, his forbidden words, cast an irresistible spell.

      She must relax. How would the auburn-haired courtesan she’d created behave? A woman bold enough to pleasure her lover in a theatre box wouldn’t be gasping in shock at a kiss on her fingertips.

      He released her finger and reached for the hem of her glove. Goodness, she was about to lose an article of clothing. He bared her hand and her glove fluttered to the carpet.

      “In one kiss, sweetheart, I’ll know if you are innocent or not.”

      No, he wouldn’t. She would kiss him like a courtesan. She wasn’t certain how a jade kissed, but it must be with great passion. Unfortunately, she was entirely on her own. None of her father’s pictures depicted kisses.

      With a gentle tug, he drew her to take a step closer. She lost balance, fell into his embrace. Her body pressed along his and his erection nudged her stomach. So close, so intimately close.

      His lordship caught her other hand by the wrist, surprisingly quick despite the lazy grace of his movements. In a heartbeat, both her hands were captured in his.

      Fighting the urge to gulp, she stared as bold as brass into his turquoise eyes. But she felt anything but bold as his lips—his perfectly sculpted, sensual lips—lowered toward hers.

      She must behave like a wanton.

      She was wanton. His mouth was a work of art, but all she could think of was pressing her mouth to that perfection and making it yield to her. Feigning sauciness, she slid her foot up his lordship’s polished boot. Her soft slipper followed the shape of his bulging calf. The leather fit him like a second skin.

      He caught her around the waist, his large hands splayed over her hips. Her nipples ached—she needed something…some pressure against them. She arched up against him, so sinfully close her breasts pushed into his hard and solid chest.

      His lips slanted over hers and her moan vanished into his mouth. She tasted his morning coffee, a trace of smoke, and heat, delicious heat.

      She had no chance to pretend passion—he lured her lips apart and slid his tongue inside. She’d never kissed like this. She’d only had one peck, one boring, meaningless peck in her whole life! This was scandalous, luscious. His tongue filled her mouth, touched hers, and coaxed it into sensual play.

      Venetia slid her arms around his neck and dared to let her fingertips stroke his black hair, softer than the sable in her treasured brushes.

      He moaned. Hoarsely.

      She’d made him moan. A thrill of power rushed through her. She felt, wild, reckless, mad. Deep in her throat, she moaned again, too. She lifted her leg, seeking to wrap it around his hips. To hold him close. To never let him go.

      Why had she never thought to draw something as spectacular as a kiss?

      Her body burned with need. Dizzying desire swamped her. She slipped her hands up his back—the earl’s broad, hard, beautiful back. She stroked the planes she’d drawn, imagining bare skin, sculpted muscle. His hands cupped her rear, squeezing, so she grabbed hold of his rump. Goodness, he had beautiful buttocks—hard and smooth and tightly indented at the sides. If he were on top of her, inside her, she would grab him there and clutch his muscular derriere as he plunged into her—

      He set her back on her feet, pulled her hands from his rear. “That’s enough, sweetheart. You are every inch a gently bred virgin. That unskilled kiss was definite proof.”

      She clung to his hands, unsteady. Unskilled kiss? Wonderful kiss. Dizzying kiss. She’d been passionate. How could he know she was innocent after that?

      “I—” She wanted another kiss. Wanted more. She couldn’t think.

      “Eventually your secret will get out, Miss Hamilton. Do you want to ruin your sisters too?”

      She shook her head. No, that she couldn’t do. “But I want to be independent. I can’t bear living each day knowing that disaster will come at any moment. Can you not understand that?”

      “It’s not safe, Miss Hamilton.”

      “So you will save me against my will? Why?”

      His lips lifted in a lopsided grin and her heart somersaulted in her chest.

      “Because my sister, Lady Ravenwood, insisted it was the right thing to do,” he said. “My father made a career of ruining innocents. I do not intend to follow in his footsteps. Unfortunately for the males of England, Miss Hamilton, your career is most definitely finished.”

      CHAPTER TWO

      “And here is your brand-new nephew!”

      Marcus Wyndham, Earl of Trent, stood as Minerva, Lady Ravenwood, walked into the drawing room, a beaming smile on her face. She cradled the tiny baby against her chest. He could barely see the child amidst the frothy white bundle of blankets and blue ribbons, but Min…he’d never seen her look more radiant. Only two weeks from childbed and she glowed.

      Sunlight spilled into Min and Stephen’s drawing room, the fire roared with cheer, and being a part of the family gathering filled Marcus with a reassuring sense of warmth. He grinned as Min approached. Even his mother, who sat silently by the fire, had tolerated his presence without shrieking or throwing something at him.

      This was the happiest he’d felt in a long time. Nothing seemed to please him these days. Nothing…except Venetia Hamilton’s kiss.

      He hadn’t been able to sleep since kissing her. Hadn’t even gone to a bloody brothel to ease his pain because he’d vowed he wouldn’t and because it had been infinitely more pleasurable to lie in his bed with a cock as hard as a bloody iron bar and remember their kiss.

      A phrase of his father’s came to mind. I was shaken to my gleaming boots by her kiss. He’d been talking about a debutante—a virgin. A proper young lady, untouchable, off-limits, and oh, so ready to play, his father had claimed.

      Damn his father—he understood exactly what the old debaucher had meant.

      Hell, not the sort of thing to be thinking at a happy family gathering. He pushed the thoughts aside, and lightly kissed Min’s cheek.

      “David is smiling already,” she announced, raven curls bouncing. “If you smile at him, Marcus, I’m certain he’ll smile for you.”

      With shock, Marcus saw she was offering his nephew to him. He was at once honored and terrified. Min’s large, luminous eyes implored. She was so proud, so delighted with her joyous gift, that she would be hurt if he refused.

      He couldn’t hurt her.

      “Take care to support his head,” Stephen warned from his chair, “He’s a strong lad and when he throws his head back he can catch you by surprise.”

      Marcus СКАЧАТЬ